Need To Know Basis
by r4ven3
Summary: Set towards the end of Ep 10.04. Harry & Ruth have a conversation on a park bench about his secrets'. Same beginning, different outcome.
1. Chapter 1

_**Set towards the end of Ep 10.04, when Harry & Ruth have a conversation on a park bench. This is a variation of that conversation. Some of the dialogue is lifted directly from the episode, so belongs to Kudos.**_

_**The motivation for this piece comes from Ruth getting all huffy about Harry's `secrets'. Errr, he's a spy, Ruth, and spies have secrets. Were he an athlete would you be upset about the state of his thigh muscles? I think not.**_

_**A gentle offering. (Probably only the one chapter)**_

_**oOo**_

She was sitting on a bench, alone this time. In St James Park, the pigeons strutted around her, pecking the ground in time to some inner pulse only they could hear. She watched them for a moment, envying their predictable lives, and wishing her own life were that simple.

Either she was early, or he was late.

She watched him from the corner of her eye, as he approached the bench, and then sat down close to her, but not so close as to be touching. The circumstances which could potentially drive a wedge between them were building daily. They'd had a complex and sometimes tragic history, their lives and their relationship continually interwoven with events often out of their hands. With the appearance in London of Ilya and Elena Gavrik and their son Sasha, that history had just become murky and almost unnavigable.

"Elena, Sasha...would I have ever found out about them if they hadn't come back in your life?" Ruth began.

Harry shifted uncomfortably, sighed heavily, and looked at the ground. He had not yet looked Ruth in the eye.

"Do you know what it's like," Ruth continued, "to feel something for someone, and then one day realise you don't even know them?"

Her words hit him like an slap.

"You _do_ know me," he replied, turning to look at her, imploring her. "You know all the important things."

"Stupid man! People don't love each other on a need to know basis, Harry."

"I'm not sure that's always true."

Ruth continued. "I think to myself maybe this is his final thing, his last secret, but then I look at you and I realise there are so many more." She closely scrutinised his face, watching him squirming uncomfortably on the bench next to her. "Aren't there?"

"Yes," was all he said, almost inaudibly.

They each sighed, their present and their past colliding dissonantly all around them as they sat, still not touching.

"You know," Harry began tentatively, "I do know what you mean, Ruth -"

"Do you?" Her words held an accusatory tone.

"Yes, that's what I'm trying to say. I know it must seem like my past is some kind of Tardis, where the more you know the more there is to know."

Ruth laughed what could only be termed a hollow laugh. With each word he spoke it appeared she moved even further from him.

"Ruth, I'm trying here. I'm...trying to repair this...this..._thing_ which continually tears us apart."

"All it needed was for you to tell me these things. You'd never mentioned Elena Gavrik to me, and now here she is, and not only is she here, but so is her son – who just _happens_ to be your son as well. Were you ever going to tell me about them?"

"It just didn't seem relevant...to us."

Ruth let out another haughty laugh.

"If I told you every single thing I'd done, every woman I'd been with or used, every lie I'd told, every person whose death I'd facilitated – either directly or indirectly, you'd never have anything to do with me again."

"Harry, I'm not that shallow. I know what your work entails, and I _know_ you...or I used to think I did. I thought I knew what sort of man you are."

"You _do_ know me, Ruth. You know who I am. What I'm saying is that most people _do_ get to know one another on a need to know basis. What would be the point of telling you I snore until the possibility of us sleeping together became a reality?"

"Elena Gavrik is a bigger issue altogether than mere snoring, Harry."

"The cold war was still on. It was what happened. After we'd parted I never expected to see her again."

"And me? Will you simply compartmentalise me and send me off somewhere when I'm no longer useful to you?"

"You're different, Ruth. I didn't love Elena."

"What are you saying, Harry?"

He shifted uncomfortably on the bench, all the time looking at the pigeons, the rhythm of their pecking having an hypnotic effect upon him. He could feel Ruth's eyes on him, like lasers forever digging beneath his skin.

"You know what I'm saying."

"Perhaps I don't Harry. Perhaps you need to be more forthright with me. I have a very wild imagination, you know."

Harry turned on the seat so that he looked directly at her. He took his hands from his coat pockets and rested them on his knees.

"What I'm saying is that I have no intention of leaving you, or discarding you. I could never do that – to you or to myself. I love you. I've loved you for years. I thought you knew that."

Ruth's face softened, and she smiled. "Yes, Harry, I did know that, but one of us had to say it eventually. We can't possibly conduct a relationship based upon assumptions."

She reached her hand across the short distance between them, and he lifted his left hand from his knee and grasped the hand she offered. With their hands linked in this way, their eyes locked, and it was as though all the struggles and misunderstandings of the past 5 years since Ruth had so dramatically returned from Cyprus, simply drained from them and into the grass beneath their feet. Harry slid closer to her until their knees touched, and then leaned towards her, and carefully and very gently touched her lips with his own. She did not pull away or resist, so he intensified the kiss, but only marginally. Ruth lifted her other hand to cup the side of his face, so locking them together. It was a chaste kiss, but a beautifully long one, and by the end of it they were each smiling. The kiss really meant something.

The day suddenly seemed warmer to them both.

They pulled apart reluctantly, but still held hands. Harry was aware they were probably being watched, but he was no longer prepared to allow that prospect to limit him. He looked at her with loving eyes, relieved at no longer having to hide his feelings.

"So -," he said, "there was something you had to tell me?"

"Oh, you mean about quite liking you?"

He smiled into her eyes.

"You know I love you Harry. I find it impossible to hide the feelings I have for you. I'm surprised everyone who works with us doesn't know also."

"I think you'll find they all knew long before we did." Harry hesitated, not sure whether he should play this cautiously and slowly, or simply go with his gut and to hell with the consequences. "Will you come around later for dinner? I can cook, you know. I can do amazing things with pasta. I hope you like pasta. Almost everyone does."

Ruth hesitated, not sure if this was all going too fast.

"Just dinner, Ruth," Harry added, "all I'm offering is dinner."

**oOo**

_**Not sure if I should just leave it there, and let us all use our imaginations...not wanting to be voyeuristic or anything**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**OK, I am as curious as are you about the outcome of this fic.**_

_**This is for all you lovely voyeurs out there.**_

_**This fic is now a 3-parter.**_

**oOo**

It was ten o'clock by the time they were free to leave the Grid. They barely spoke the whole way to Harry's house. Expectation lay between them like early morning mist in a forest. They had not planned the night ahead. All he had offered was pasta – and the wine to accompany it. The possibilities for what came after that had remained unspoken. He had his hopes, of course. He was male, far from being dead, and he loved the woman who sat beside him with every cell in his body.

He also knew that her silence meant she was thinking about this as much as he.

Ruth had earlier told him about Towers' job offer, and he had encouraged her to take it. He saw disappointment cross her face, and he had added, "I don't want you involved in what's coming."

"Do you know something I don't?" she'd asked.

"Yes, and I don't want you to be by my side when it all kicks off. Say yes to Towers' offer. You deserve that. I've been selfish. I should have encouraged you to move on years ago. "

Ruth had wanted him to beg her to stay with him at Section D. She'd hoped he wanted her with him enough to ask her to not take up Towers' offer. She could also see that his ambition for her was considerably greater than her own. She was able to detect that his encouraging her to move on was a demonstration of his love for her. Theirs had been such a long courtship, and it was unclear to both where they should go from here. Their relationship had never followed any kind of normal trajectory.

Once inside Harry's house, Ruth watched him adopt turbo-chef mode. He removed his jacket and his tie, opened the top two buttons of his shirt, and rolled his shirt-sleeves to just below his elbows. He poured a glass of wine for each of them, and then began to open cupboards from which he took pots, pans, lids, and all the paraphernalia necessary to create the meal.

"I don't need your help," he replied when she offered, "You're my guest. You can choose the music," he said, adding chopped onions and garlic to the olive oil in the frypan.

"I'd rather watch you cook," she replied, leaning against the dresser, her glass of wine in her hand. He looked across and smiled at her, and she felt her stomach do a little flip.

A delicate aura of anticipation hovered in the air between them. For them, this could herald the beginning of either an exciting romantic entanglement, or else another series of arguments and misunderstandings which could potentially drive a wedge between them for years to come.

Ruth was enjoying watching him, as he deftly chopped, stirred, poured, measured and estimated, taking sips of wine between actions. Her eyes took in his shoulders, his back, and his forearms, and when he turned her way, his throat, his mouth and his eyes. He was far more than the sum of his more attractive parts, but she was alive, still young enough, and this man loved her and she loved him.

"This is another of your secrets, Harry."

He looked up. "What is?"

"This," she indicated the table, where he'd arranged place mats, cutlery, a bowl of tossed salad. "I had no idea you could do all this, and so well, too."

"Wait until you taste it. There's a lot I can do that you don't know about."

Ruth felt her neck and face grow warm, his double meaning clear and intended.

"I'll put on some music," she said, leaving the room.

Harry's music collection was no surprise – a handful of compilations from the 70's and 80's, and a whole lot of opera. Ruth chose Mozart's _Apollo and Hyacinth_, turning the volume down so that it provided a background to their dinner, rather than the main feature.

They ate in near silence. The food was magnificent, and the wine perfect. The company was noticeably nervous.

"Harry," she began, "what is it you're not telling me about the Russians? Why is it I shouldn't be around? Are you in any danger?"

"Yes, but it's not only the Russians I'm not sure of. It's the CIA," he replied, lifting his eyes to meet hers. "I may not come out of this alive. I don't want you there if things go wrong."

"But, I don't want to simply stand by and do nothing while they kill you."

"And I don't want them to take you as hostage, either. If they knew about _this_ -" he indicated them together, at the same table, "you could be a target."

"So – shouldn't we perhaps have waited until – after this-which-is-going-to-happen happens?"

Harry put down his spoon and fork, and looked at her. "We've been waiting until after everything for – how many years is it now? I'm tired of waiting Ruth. I just want to love you."

Ruth was about to take another bite, but put her fork back in the bowl in front of her.

Harry sighed. "If we continue to wait until both of us are out of danger, then we'll either be dead, or too old to appreciate what the other has to offer." Harry took another sip of his wine before he continued. "Today in the park, when we kissed, do you suppose we were not being watched? The CIA are thorough, they miss nothing. They know about us. That's why it's safer for you if you're working for Towers. That way I won't have to be worrying about you every minute of the day."

Harry looked and sounded tired. Ruth's heart ached for him. She found herself wanting to soothe him, to hold him, to lie down somewhere soft and safe with him. As he'd said, if they waited until both of them were out of danger, they'll have waited too long.

"Harry," she said carefully, "if you want to go to bed after we finish dinner, I'd be happy to join you. If that's what you want."

Harry looked up at her, his surprise obvious in his eyes. "Seems I'm not the only one harbouring surprises," he murmured, a smile lifting the edges of his mouth. "I'm happy if you're happy, sweetheart."

Ruth smiled at the endearment, the first either of them had uttered to the other. This day had already been momentous, and the day was not yet over.

They ate the rest of their meal in near-silence, occasionally looking up to exchange a smile, or a look into the very soul of the other.

When the meal was finished, and the last drop of wine drunk, Ruth stood and began to gather their used dishes. "You go up to bed, Harry. I'll clear up here, and join you later."

"Are you sure?" he replied. "I can help."

"You look exhausted."

"I am. My bedroom is straight ahead at the top of the stairs," he said as he left the kitchen.

"I'm sure I can find it," she replied.

Ruth took her time clearing the table, scraping uneaten food into the bin, rinsing the dishes, and stacking the dishwasher. She was no longer unsure about Harry. This day had been life-changing in so many ways, and she needed a few minutes to herself to catch her breath.

She turned off the lights downstairs, leaving only the light which lit the stairs, so that she could find her way. Ruth was certain she'd find her way to Harry wherever he was, even without having her way lit. She slipped quietly through his bedroom door, shutting it behind her. He was already in bed, and as she drew closer to him she heard his snoring.

As much as she wanted to wake him, she left him be, and undressed quietly. She slipped into bed beside him, wearing only her knickers, and a t-shirt of his which he'd thrown over the back of a chair. The t-shirt smelled deliciously of him. She noticed his shoulders and chest were bare, and she drank in the sight of him, so close to her, but at this moment still so far.

Her curiosity about whether he was wearing anything at all would have to wait. She closed her eyes, and allowed sleep to come.


	3. Chapter 3

_**This is the final chapter of this fic.**_

_**Thanks for the lovely reviews.**_

_**I'm not sure this fits strictly within a T rating, but it's not quite in the realm of M.**_

_**I vote for there being an F rating – for Fluffy. This chapter is very fluffy, with some R for raunchy!**_

**oOo**

When Ruth awoke, the world outside the room was dark, and next to her Harry seemed to be in a deep sleep, his snoring having been replaced by a quieter, steadier breathing. As she grew accustomed to the dark, she was able to make out his profile on the pillow, only inches from her face. He had flung his arm across her pillow, and some time during the night it had slipped behind her shoulders so that her body now pinned his arm to the bed. What was worse, she had turned on her side to face him, and under the duvet her own arm had slipped across his body so that her hand was rested just beneath the waistband of his shorts. Her fingers were entwined in his pubic hair. Were her hand to move only a fraction further, she would be touching his...

She dare – not – move – her – fingers!

She didn't wish to contemplate how her hand had got there in the first place, having no memory of anything unusual having happened. Were she to move her hand he'd no doubt wake, and then how would she explain herself? Not that Harry would be complaining. She just didn't want him to think she'd been taking advantage of him while he slept.

Harry's breathing pattern slowed, and he took a deep breath.

"That's nice, but could you perhaps move your hand a bit lower?"

"Harry!" Ruth exclaimed, quickly removing her hand. "I don't even know how my hand got there."

"There's no need to be coy, Ruth," Harry said, his voice lazy with sleep, "You know you're curious."

Harry rolled towards her, encircling her in his arms. His bear-hug gradually became an exploration of her body with his hands and his mouth. She felt his half-arousal – that-which-she'd-dared-not-touch – against her thigh.

"Wait," Ruth said, pulling away, "where's your bathroom?"

Harry groaned as he rolled away. "First on the right," he said.

As much as she needed to splash her face with water and rinse out her mouth, hoping to dilute the tastes from the previous night's dinner, Ruth needed more thinking time. When she'd suggested that she stay over and accompany Harry to bed, she had known what it meant. It's just that now the moment had arrived, she was experiencing a desire to run as far away from Harry as she could get. He overwhelmed her with his sheer physicality, and his ability to embrace so much of life, while at the same time talk of death like he was prepared to accept that too. She had never known another man like him. She wasn't sure she could live up to what a man such as he would need in a woman.

Ruth stared at her reflection in the mirror.

"Come one, Ruth," she said, "it's your time now. Yours and Harry's time. He has chosen _you_."

Ruth turned on the hall light and left the bedroom door ajar, so that a muted light was cast into the room. Harry was sitting up in bed waiting for her, one eyebrow lifted.

"I thought you'd run away from me again," he said, a smile in his voice.

"I'm sorry about...that," she said, waving a hand in the direction of his crotch.

"Don't mention it," he replied. "That's the most action I've had in – oh – years."

Ruth sat down on her side of the bed. "I find that hard to believe."

"It's true," he said quietly, lifting the duvet for her to get in beside him. "For all these years there's only ever been you. I can't believe we've waited this long to do anything about it."

"We haven't done anything yet," she said, turning to face him.

"Just think," he said, "if I hadn't been wearing shorts we'd have already made love, and would now be basking in post-orgasmic radiance."

"So, now you're a poet?"

"I do try to please," he said, reaching across to her.

Harry found her lips with his, opening his mouth and touching her lips with his tongue. Her response was immediate, as her mouth opened beneath his. This exploration was accompanied by their hands, each discovering the body of the other. Ruth ran both hands across his chest, over his shoulders, and down his back to his buttocks, while he slipped both hands under the t-shirt she wore and found her breasts.

Whilst their discovering of one another was slow and even lazy, their breathing became deeper and heavier. Harry pulled Ruth's t-shirt over her head, discarding it on the floor. In the half-light from the hallway, he gazed at her body in wonder.

"God, you're beautiful!" he said, before he bent to kiss each breast, then back to her mouth.

They lay under the duvet, close to one another, Harry kissing her deeply and thoroughly, while his hands moved slowly down her abdomen towards her knickers. Ruth had her own ambitions. Her hands had been massaging his buttocks, outside his shorts, so she slipped both hands under the waistband, and then very slowly brought them around to the front, taking his erection in both hands.

Harry groaned, pulling away from her to give her freer access to him. Ruth moved her fingers slowly back and forwards, while he found her soft centre with his own fingers.

"_Now_, I think," Ruth said, slipping out of her knickers, while Harry quickly discarded his shorts, then flung back to duvet so he could see all of her.

He entered her easily, moving slowly at first, then with a steady pace that matched their breathing. Each held the eyes of the other, right until they climaxed – she first, then he. Harry dropped on to his elbows to catch his breath. "God!" was all he managed to say.

Harry the unbeliever had found the Divine in this woman.

The light of early morning glinted through the curtains as they lay together under the duvet, lost in the wonder of what they had just done.

After all this time.

"Work calls," he said after a while. "I don't think I'll be able to concentrate on the CIA and their probable dirty dealings. Fancy a twosome in the shower?"

In the shower, Ruth threw her head back as Harry knelt in front of her, deftly tonguing her to another orgasm. The water cascaded over them both as again they each lost themselves in the other.

In contrast, they dressed for work in Harry's bedroom, gradually letting themselves take on work-mode. They had a busy and possibly difficult day ahead of them. Firstly, they stopped at Ruth's house for her to change into fresh clothes.

"You don't have to wait for me, Harry. I can make my own way to Thames House."

"I'm not letting you out of my sight," he replied, entering her house with her. The fact was he was still worried that there may be those who would choose to get at him by getting at Ruth. Just before they left her house, Harry stopped her and turned to hold her close to him. He kissed her slowly and tenderly, before stepping away to open the door.

"What was that about?" she asked.

"This is our last chance to kiss in private before we get to work. I didn't want to go to work without kissing you again."

"You're such a romantic, Harry," Ruth said as she passed him and walked down the footpath towards his Range Rover.

"That's because I love you," he said quietly.

At Thames House, they decided to enter the pods together and step on to the Grid together – a declaration, if you like. Too much time had passed, and too many opportunities had been lost. In the pod, just before the door opened, Harry looked at her and mouthed the words, _I love you_. Ruth spoke her reply, "Me, too."

They then stepped on to the Grid to face whatever the world threw at them, but this time they would be facing it together.

.


End file.
